So my husband and I are living in antiquity: we have no dishwasher.
Clay likes to correct me and say that, no, we actually have four dishwashers (our hands). I am generally not amused with his attempts at levity, especially when the pile of dirty dishes looks like this:
You may be asking yourself, "How can two people soil so many dishes?" But alas...these have accumulated over the entire week. (Just so you know, it could be much worse. Clay's later work schedule means no formal dinners at home and therefore drastically fewer dishes.)
For those of you well-acquainted with my clean-freakish tendencies, this may be a fact that surprises you. Under normal circumstances, I would happily tie on my apron and strap on the rubber gloves before diving into the food encrusted mess. The soiled mountain would be sparkling clean and back in the cabinet in no time. But when faced with a mountain of dishes at the end of a long day of work - and a very persuasive husband who doesn't want to wash them either (after all, The Office is about to start) - it is a task that can be easily put off.
Maybe there is a little part of me that hopes this mountain of dirties will wash itself. Or even better, a dish (or two or three) might run away with the spoon!
